The Siege of Thebeska
by Sutter Finicky
Summary: Jedi Apprentice Ahsoka Tano inspired citizens of Thebeska to rebel against a tyrannical Empire. A year later, she returns to help the farmers and miners complete the overthrow of their oppressors.
1. Chapter 1

Under the cold, never ending rain of Thebeska farmers and miners alike clutched to the clumps of ground to avoid sinking in the moat of stench, trash filled water reaching their knees. Every couple of minutes a shelling would disrupt the silence the soldiers were beginning to grow accustomed to. Every so often, right as their nerves completely subsided return in the loudest of roars. The groans of the wounded pushed aside or lay in "No Man's Land" begging to whatever higher calling they've believed in. Men of no faith brought to their knees looked up to the dreary sky in hopes of their suffering to be brought to a merciful end.

"I wish I could put them out of their misery." One scraggly looking man, named Jennings, said, his eyes peering over the trench. "But I don't have the courage."

"Those damned Imperials can't give us a break!" A woman, named Pera, cursed. Her voice rough and scratchy.

Captain Hyatt ordered his men to resume their posts and to not lose concentration. Nearly impossible given the situation. Everywhere they looked a reminder of the hellish surrounding provided a distraction to their regular duties. "Eventually we have to go get them." Hyatt theorized, referring to the wounded. It was the basic code of conduct for war. Of course, the last conflict of consequence between two organic armies took place thousands of years ago. Maybe the chivalry is lost on their foes.

"Forget it, Captain. Any attempts to establish communications with the other side has been met with aggression."

"Ah, I see." The men were as good as dead anyway. But the Empire wanted to see their enemies suffer, to squirm on the wet, dirty ground covered in the filthiest of insects before croaking out their last breath.

"Sir, you have a communication from the opposing side." This immediately brought life to Hyatt's droopy eyes, who were just as grey as the very day.

"Patch him through." Wasting no time Hyatt was escorted to the nearest communications port where a slick blonde haired, handsome man stood upright and proud.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Captain." Commander Leon raised his Imperial cap and held it over his heart, as a disingenuous show of respect.

"If you really meant that you won't have spent the last week rebuffing my attempts to contact you." Hyatt sees through the ruse. "But let's not mince words. Perhaps my time with you is short. I wish to surrender. Effective immediately."

"Oh?" Leon could not contain his visible glee, a smirk and snarky expression in his eyes placed on his clear face.

"Yes. My men are tired and are sick. We have wounded that need medical attention and have spent days getting infections."

"My heart bleeds, Captain, let me assure you. But I cannot accept your request for surrender."

"Wha-"

"Unless!" Leon interjects, knowing he holds control of the room even if he's inside a Star Destroyer high up from his adversary. "You meet a condition customary to me."

At the end of his rope, desperate to bring an end to the suffering he's shown unable to shield his men from, Hyatt leaped. "Name it."

"A duel." Leon brandishes his pistol as a show he was definitely serious. Hyatt did not want to believe his lying eyes or ears.

"No." He said breathlessly.

"No?" Leon believed to take this as a rejection.

"No, I mean... yes. Name the time."

"Today. I can be down in the hour." The transmission abruptly ends.

"You're not really going to play into pipsqueaks game are you?" Jennings contends there was nothing to gain from this besides fodder for Imperial propagandist.

"No. This is the only way." Hyatt assures and requests time by himself to get his pistol.

By the time the two leaders met in No Man's Land, Leon had let the majority of the bodies - many of them decaying corpses by now - by taken and pushed to the side. "Didn't think you'd show." Hyatt howls from the opposite side of No Man's Land.

"Why do you say that?" Leon asks.

"Because your profession lacks courage." He smiles.

Unfazed, Leon announced on three they'd draw. The rain fell harder and harder, showing no sign of stopping. Leon began to get unnerved by the unbearably strong stench of decomposing bodies and makeshift latrines.

"One..." His fingers, as did Hyatt's danced over their respective pistols holstered at their hip, Leon had his gun positioned at his right side; Hyatt to his left.

"Two..." Leon mimicked firing early, showing a sly smile before resuming the count. Hyatt did not flinch.

"Three!" The men who watched could only make out the loud bangs and the fall of one of the two combatants, just not which one.

"Ours." Jennings sorrowfully announced. Now what are they to do? There are no replacements to Hyatt. No second in commands to the now fallen Captain. All there was left to do was run. Run madly into the woods. Into the nearest towns. Board the nearest transports to escape the watchful eyes of the Imperial.


	2. Chapter 2

Out of all the planets for Moe Biggs to settle on, he couldn't have picked a colder planet than Thebeska. Under normal circumstances it wouldn't have gotten more remote in the whole galaxy than Thebeska. A loud banging shook him from his comfortable slumber, having pulled an all-nighter drowning his woes in the sweetest of nectar a grogginess coupled with a reluctance to accept peace was fleeting. He imagined little men inside his skull bashing the front of his head in with a batter ram. "MOE" No matter what he did to cover his ears the calls would remain prevalent. He tossed the covers off his average build for a body and opened the door very slightly.

"Finally!" The person badgering him for attention was no more than a child, a little girl bright green eyes and an even brighter personality. "Father wants you. So clean yourself up." She turns and walks away. Moe stands idle, the tiny slice of sunlight providing visibility of his person.

"Good morning, how are you?" He talks to himself. "I am fine, thank you for asking!" He groans and shakes the cobwebs from his brain to begin the process of getting him ready for the day. Cold water and lots of cold water splashes on his face and a hot cup of caf prepared and waiting for him. It was best to not keep Chief Fardi waiting. The old man was quite pleasant to be around. Greeting Moe with a firm handshake and hard pat on the back.

"It's good to see you."

"Same."

"I'll be blunt; the Imperials have taken over Cipiko. The boys are on the run and need to be rounded up."

"Okay."

"Damned fools! If they find out who's supplying them we'll be up the creak."

"You'll be up the creak." Moe corrected. Chief laughs.

"I guess you're right. I guess I am at your mercy. Go and meet CeCe a kilometer from here and she'll give me the complete plan."

CeCe is a strong woman, usually the leader of their operations. For the past few years she and Moe drifted apart, CeCe assisting the rebels in what Moe saw as a "foolhardy" attempt at overthrowing the Empire.

"Are you ever going to care for someone besides yourself?" She asks him truthfully, with no irony or distain.

"Perhaps." He concedes there's a light still inside him that hadn't been snubbed out by the growing darkness. "Maybe when Tiana is old enough to take care of herself and Dad feels better-"

"So on your time you'll fight?"

"I don't see a reason why not? I left on my own accord years ago and it brought me nothing but trouble for me and them."

CeCe gave up trying to reason with Moe. His choices are his. He isn't a bad seed, she'd classify him more as a coward who dunked his toe in the water found it too cold and never wanted to go near the shore again.

"How much did Chief promise to pay you?"

"650."

"Kinda low for your rates, Moe."

"Only because I didn't feel like squeezing him."

"Sure."

Arriving in the pine tree forest, a small company of eight soldiers of a verity of races saw the headlights and cowered under the filth they used as cover. CeCe flashes the lights twice to let them know they're friendlies. They loaded themselves on the flatbed of the truck, Moe placed the tarp over the roof to conceal the cargo.

"You people stink." He greets them by grabbing the brim of his nose, closing the nostrils.

"They've been living in the woods for almost a week."

"We didn't have much to survive on before you showed." The major says, shaking himself out of his shocked state. "Thank you, CeCe."

"You just rest, Gil."

"You know each other?"

"We fought in the Clone War together."

"Seems like everyone here has the same story." Gil summarizes those who didn't cut their teeth in the largest galactic war often didn't last long.

"Did you fight?" Gil asks Moe, who gives a no -committal answer mumbling under his breath.

"He smuggled in supplies on numerous fronts for the Republic."

"I tell ya, I'd give anything to fight those tin cans again." Gil yearns.

"It's more likely they'll be our allies in this fight." Moe wants to ask CeCe why'd she say that, gunshots interrupted his train of thought.

"Did I mention the Empire's been chasing us?" Gil adds.

"There are two options..." CeCe calculated.

"There are always two options." Moe points out while reloading his blaster, turning his head to ask aloud if anyone has any grenades on them.

"Either we fight or we run."

"What's the point of running, we're not getting past the checkpoints in this high-tech disguise. Might as well take the fight to them."

"Are you crazy?" Gil asks.

"Probably. But it seems your conventional way of doing things is what landed you here in the first place." Moe then turns on the radio, the soft humming of base begins. When CeCe goes to shut it off, he slaps her hand away. "They already know where we are, let's have some fun." Except the "fun" Moe seemed to be referring to was not taking this predicament seriously, willingly risking the lives of many just for the sheer adrenaline rush. Instantly, CeCe began to regret recommending Moe to Fardi. "Besides, we're low on fuel."

"What's your plan?" CeCe asks.

"Burn the forest."

"Are you serious?" Gil hoped he wasn't.

"The Imperials are running down trees to get to us, let's burn their path."

CeCe stopped, Moe cut open the drain open open, draining its excess into a Jerry can. Moe splashes the kerosene on the trees and shrubs, then asks who had a match or a lighter. The sounds of Imperial engines grew louder and louder, but Moe remained calm. When no one stepped up to announced they possessed such an object. "Go, I'll meet up with you."

"How are you going to light up the forest?"

"I have my ways." He took his blaster and shot the trail within moments the area was engulfed in a big orange flame and the sounds of engines abruptly halted. "Better hurry before they despatch their air fleet."

The march towards friendly territory suffered casualties along the way. Souls suffering from exhaustion and/or wounds inflicted upon them in the battle prior. Though he did not show it, Moe's heart wept for these rebels who did not see a reason to be optimistic in their long lasting fight against the tyrannical empire. All they had at their advantage was the fire, the hunger burning in their eyes. A understanding there was no peaceful end, they either die on the battlefield in glory or hang from the trees in shame.


	3. Chapter 3

Drinks were plentiful at the Eerie Saloon not to far from the Imperial city of Cipiko. Although the Empire instituted a hefty tax on all liquors bartenders still found ways to sneak contraband past the checkpoints. Bars usually boosted loud, flamboyant music to set the mood. Since a low profile was need to be kept all the people of Thebeska could do was drink themselves silly in stone cold silence. But tonight was a moment of celebration for Moe. With the 650 earned tonight he could finally pay the last of his father's debts to those loan sharks in his neighborhood.

"So what are you going to do now?" Jennings asks him.

"I don't know." Moe answered truthfully. "I want to get Tiana far from this war, problem is I have no clue where to take her. The war is everywhere."

"The Imperial army doesn't enlist female stormtroopers, so Tiana can live a relatively normal life."

"Until the Grays come and shove her into the academy to either pilot TIE Fighters or weave fabric... maybe both." It was a trying time not just for the little remnants of the once great Galactic Republic, but for those just trying to go on with their daily day-to-day lives.

"Best not to worry about what you cannot control. The Empire will not hound someone who is already pledged to go to university."

"But I can't afford to send Tiana to university."

"Perhaps Fardi will give you more work?"

"I'm not working for the rebellion anymore."

"What!"

"In all honesty I don't know what's the point. The Empire killed all of the resistance leaders, seized most of the capital cities and strangled off any trade route on and off of the planet."

"Better to die free than to live enslaved."

"Well who's going to protect Tiana if I'm buried under dirt?"

Moe didn't wish to talk about this subject for longer. It made him feel redundant to see his irrelevance in the universe. "I used to think the galaxy was his oyster... now... *sigh* now I am a has-been with way too much time left."

"Then you better make good use of what's left of your life. Even if you don't want to." Jennings elected to pay the bar tab for Moe, but he decided to stay behind for a few more drinks.

"I'm a little too drunk to drive." He confessed to the bartender, who was paying him no mind. Moe swung himself around and wobbled outside to hail a taxi, only the roads are deserted.

"C'mon Empire, you could have at least left the cab service alone."

Turning the corner down an alley Moe seen two men waiting almost as if for him to come by, their beady eyes lit up upon seeing Moe. "Hey, it's that guy!" One of them said, blocking the exit from the alleyway, while the other made sure Moe did not exit. "We heard you came into a pretty sweet payload." Moe may be drunk, but he mostly knew when to keep his mouth shut.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I spent all my working money at the bar." He says.

"No. I don't think that's true." The man delivered a swift shot to his gut, while the other bashed his head with the barrel of his pistol, they proceeded to beat and kick him. By the time they were done, Moe had suffered bruises on his bottom and top lips, a swollen jaw and left eye and to top it all off they ransacked his pockets for his coveted 650 credits.

"My momma used to tell me 'it costs you to lie'." The man said before the two left in a scurry like cockroaches running from a flickering lightbulb, leaving Moe to lick his wounds. Only he didn't. He just sat there, his blood trickling on the cold, wet concrete, his brain not willing to process what had just occurred had indeed occurred. His prayers that this was all just a horrible dream weren't realized. It was hours until Moe picked himself off from the ground and limped home before the sun rise.


	4. Chapter 4

The mood under the sewers of what's left of the resistance wasn't jovial. Their wasn't much hope for the wounded. Their moans of distress could not be walled off, their wailing gave Mr. Fardi a tremendous headache and caused a great sadness in his heart. They did not have enough supplies to tend to all of them in due time.

"You talk to your friend?" CeCe asks Chief.

"She isn't coming."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because she doesn't care. We have to act on the basis of reality."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

"So us organizing a retreat where most of our men survive wasn't constructed in reality."

"Of course it was."

"Then what do you mean?"

"I mean she is not coming back here and she'd be smart not to."

* * *

Moe came home to see his father, sixty-eight-years of age cleaning the kitchen table while helmet-less stormtroopers picked their teeth above empty plates. "I'm going to recommend you to all my friends!" One of them said garnering a hearty laugh from his peers.

"What's going on here?"

"Oh!" One Stormtrooper decorated with an armored sash placed atop his left shoulder raises to greet him. "You must be the son. Well, it seems I am taking your quarters."

"What?"

"Yes, under law any citizen that owes a substantial amount of money to the Empire must quarter Imperial soldiers if the debt cannot be paid." He explains. Alvin looks away sheepishly, ashamed to even look his son in the eye.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Moe tells the soldier, who by his judgement is a Commander. "My father has never taken directly from the Empire."

"No. We know your father's issues lay with the various loan sharks around the area so we'll keep those brutes away providing you give us shelter, food and perform other tasks... Unless, you already have the money?"

Defeated, Moe could only sigh and accept the circumstances as they were. To add salt to the wound one of the troops pretended to spill a glass of ale it's mug landing on the head of Alvin, he fell with an audible thud resulting in the laughter of them all. Moe helped Alvin up from the ground, his bad back kept him from doing so himself without pain.

"You missed a spot, Alvin!" One of the troops giggles madly, like the sight of this frail, pale wrinkly skinned old man dosed in liquid was the funniest thing in the universe.

"Pop, I'll takeover you go to bed." Moe tells him.

"Who said you can tell who and who isn't on duty?" The Commander challenges.

"Seeing that this is still somewhat my house I think I deserve to have some power of those in my bloodline."

"Key word 'somewhat', but I'll allow it. Go to bed old chum, there's a long tomorrow that awaits you and your son."

Alvin's beaten down legs barely are able to climb up the staircase to his bedroom. His wheezing makes Moe feel a great discomfort. "I'm sorry I did this to you." Alvin says.

"You didn't do nothing." Moe tells him.

"No. I did all of it."

"There's no used to dwelling on the past." He tells his father as he gently lays him down to sleep.

"You need to make sure Tiana isn't caught up in this." Moe promises his little sister wouldn't be subjected to whatever the Imperials had in mind for either of them.

"You won't be either, Pop." His grey eyes catch his son's gaze, a look of vulnerability meeting one of unsureness.

"You truly are a good son."

"And you're a good father."

The night went on, the troops tired and drunk retired. Moe curled up to sleep on the floor, nothing more than a thin tan bedsheet to keep him warm.

The next morning a much need cup of caf for Moe was interrupted by the Commander, him and his patrol group were just getting ready to head out. "Your dad use to make battle droids for the CIS?" The Commander asks, referring to the defunct Confederacy of Independence Star Systems. Moe nods. "By chance do you know how to program the old machines?"

"Why would you want to utilize ancient tech?"

"So you savages don't!"

"Well I don't know what to tell you, Mister, but even if someone were to do as you said they wouldn't be able to get past the CIS fire wall."

The Commander only growls then turns away. "You're coming with me, I have some work for you." Reluctantly, Moe follows the man. "I believe we haven't formally introduced ourselves. My name is Quinten."

"Moe."

"I hope you're as good as your dad says you are, Moe." Moe assures Quinten he is. "I heard you and Mr. Fardi are quite close?"

"All I do is transport goods from point A to point B for him. He pays me, I work for him. That's it."

"I'm sure." Quinten wasn't convinced nonetheless. "I'd like it if you kept working for Mr. Fardi, we suspect he's a rebel sympathizer with possible knowledge of the whereabouts of a Jedi."

"The Jedi?" That particular noun took the air out of Moe for a brief time. "They're gone. Your boss made quick work of those mystics."

"Oh, if only my dear boy." Quinten says longingly. "And don't leave Thebeska, because we'll know." Quinten puts on his helmet. "There's a weapons dealer giving the resistance pistols and rifles near the front in Alscicourt. Go there and end him."

"What's in it for me?" Moe asks.

"For starters I don't blow your father's brains out of his skull, and we'll make sure those loan sharks don't get near your family."

"And me?" Moe figures they must have some dirt on him.

"We'll clean up your record. All that bootlegging and petty crimes that'll result in a decade in prison will vanish."

Moe didn't trust Quinten's generosity, but relented, award he was in no place to bargain. "Go. Now."


	5. Chapter 5

For a tall man, Moe saw himself being pushed around with relative ease. Before his growth spurt he was prone to getting into fights during school days, which carried over into his later teen years. It wasn't until after the war he mellowed to a more meek person when it comes to direct face-to-face confrontation.

Quinten told Moe to meet the arms dealer in Burytown. For such a quaint name, it housed villainous scum such as smugglers, bounty hunters and dealers of almost any sort. In his youth Moe used to partake in card games, lying about his age to gain entry and fraternize with the juvenile rift-raft. "I recently got jumped and need a weapon." Moe knew how to get the dealer he wanted. One of the patrons was busy fancying himself a pretty lady. Moe flashed a credit worth 1,000 just for a couple minutes and the long-toothed gent gave him. "I know you know a guy who possesses a weapon that'll put real fear in anyone who tries to fuck with me." The way Moe spoke is reminiscent to how the boys his age back in the day pretended to be one of the gangsters that past their stoops.

"If you want a good looking gun I can take you to Pilar." That's the name Moe wanted to hear. The man escorted Moe to the back of the bar near a booth, like the shorter man, Pilar was also trying his luck with the female patrons. By Moe's judgement he was having some success. Moe had to admit he was a little envious.

"Woodrow"

"Who wants to know?"

"I do." He took a seat in the booth. "Mind if you give us some privacy, ladies?" After a brief silence the dealer tells the women to let the men talk. "I won't be long." He promises, flashing a cheesy smile.

"This better be good?"

"It is."

"Because I can always find some loser who wants to feel big and make a gain."

"Yes, but what I'm looking for isn't just some average weapon."

"Oh? What gun is it then?"

"It's not a gun. Taking out a holopad Moe dialed up an image of a spherical object, its animation showed the ball opening to show its own insides. "It's a 4A AAB model Thermal Detonator. It holds the power to disintegrate six city blocks."

Unfazed the dealer inquired further. "What do you need it for?"

"None of your business."

"How do I know you won't use this against me?"

"I don't need to use it... hopefully. I want the thugs around here to think of me as a mad man."

"Then just make a model of your own."

"I want one that works."

"It's too dangerous to sell to someone like you."

"Why? You only deal these types of weapons to armies?" A hush came over the table.

"I deal them to people who know how to use them."

"The rebels?"

"Rebels... Empire. It's all the same thing."

"Think so?"

"Know so."

"On Thebeska you have to look out for yourself."

"Then look out for me, I'll pay you double."

"How much you have?"

"How much you want?"

"750"

"I can do 1,500."

After some more silence, the dealer contemplated whether this was worth taking the negotiations to the next level. "Show me the money." This stifled Moe, for Quinten didn't give him more than 1,000 credits he just used to just reach the dealer.

"Not here." He says. "Too many eyes. Let's talk out back, me and you."

They walked out just themselves, Moe was the first one to speak. "Before we go further, I just want to see the merchandise." The dealer opened his speeder door and just said to Moe "Get in" which he did. "You have experience moving stuff around?"

"Occasionally"

"Names Woodrow, I'm looking for someone brave enough to move supplies to the resistance." This all happened so fast. For one, Moe did not come here looking for a job.

"'Brave'?"

"Brave meaning dumb. Most of my associates end up on the inside."

"Aren't you concerned they're going to flip?" That remark earned a laugh from Woodrow "I don't hire people who asks questions."

"Dummies?"

"For sure."

Quinten wasn't sure if he could trust Moe - but he couldn't trust anybody on this forsaken desolate rock calling itself a planet. When his com-link went off he didn't expect it to be the young man he dispersed hours ago. "How'd you get this number?" Quinten asks.

"One of your 'brothers' gave it me." Moe nonchalantly says. "I talked to Woodrow."

"Who?"

"Woodrow. The arms dealer. He says he deals to both parties."

"I know that! I want him to lead us to the resistance."

"Well that's what I'm going to do. I'm delivering a shipment tomorrow to one of the fronts. I don't know where, yet."

"Keep me posted."

The early days of Moe's youth wasn't so simple. For the people of Thebeska no matter who you were, until you reached a certain age you were considered property of your family. Often Alvin would lend Moe's services, sometimes lasting for weeks, to neighbors and collect the earnings for himself. His mother did the same until she died when he was eleven. Moe knew early on the value of money, how it swayed people to do just about anything. For all the magic the Jedi preach the ancient power of the Force could not match the power of the all mighty galactic credit. He was used to being passed around like the butler.

"What did you do after the war?" Woodrow asks.

"On the day the Jedi Order fell I was granted an apprenticeship to become an engineer."

"Oh, a handyman?" Woodrow could have some use for that. "For now I just need a competent driver." He hands Moe the keys to his large size speeder carrying four crates of weapons on the flatbed. "Take these to East Front."

"I'll need some protection."

"I don't have anybody."

"Mind if I bring someone?" Moe was relieved Woodrow allowed this, but insisted the personnel be someone experienced. "I have someone in mind."

Moe tapped Jennings Bryant. He wondered if Jennings had any idea Woodrow was dealing to both sides. He figured it was better not to ask. "Thanks for coming along J.B"

"I should be thanking you," His smile shown great approval and proudness "it's good to have you back in the fight."

"It's great to be back." Moe feigned modesty. "But we're still using current names."

"I have no idea why you picked this name in the first place. Seems like you already did enough to keep yourself under the radar."

"Apparently not." Moe muttered under his breath. "You're on the horn with Braxton?"

"On it."

It was in the dead of night Moe delivered his first shipment of weaponry to the rebels, making effort not to make eye contact with anyone who stole a gaze. Moe told Jennings to talk "very little" and to stay seated in the truck. Now explained to the military commander of the particular front line how much Woodrow was expecting in return, after some abrasive cursing and hollow threats of violence the commander relented and paid his bill in full. It's an awful lot of money, shame none of it was going into Moe's back-pocket. He wondered when he'd ever make an honest credit again.


End file.
